


Trying; One Piece At A Time

by Ryuutchi



Category: Hebrew Bible, Jewish Scripture & Legend
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuutchi/pseuds/Ryuutchi
Summary: Rabbi Zeira says, "This scroll does not have anything in it concerned with impurity or purity nor what is forbidden and what is permitted. So why is it written? To teach us the greatness of the reward for acts of lovingkindness (chasadim)."





	Trying; One Piece At A Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whetherwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/gifts).



_Movement I: To Moab_

In the days of the judges  
there was Naomi-called-Pleasantness  
soft and round, full up with kindness  
like a berry with rich juice

And in her days of judges  
famine reached every home  
and Naomi-called-Pleasantness  
squeezed from herself drops of chesed,  
her home a feast of loving-  
kindness

So when Elimelech said  
            _we will go out from Judea_  
_to a place where there is food_  
_and milk_  
_and we will go to the fields of Moab_

Naomi-called-Pleasantness bowed her head  
and did not want to leave  
her mother and father  
her sisters and brothers  
the mitzvot of her land  
or the sweet taste of HaShem  
in the midst of cracked riverbeds and brown grasses

On the day that Naomi-called-Pleasantness  
packed up her belongings and left for Moab  
         what was it she packed?  
               what was it she hoped for?  
                     what was it that troubled her?

In the green fields of Moab  
they remained  
and Naomi-called-Pleasantness filled her days again  
         with the warmth of kindness  
         with her sons  
         with the women of Moab  
                  who were not like Hebrew women  
                  and not unlike Hebrew women  
                  and who gave Naomi succor

and from among the women  
her sons chose the princesses of Moab draped  
in pearls and purple cloth and cloth of gold  
to be her daughters in law  
      Orpah          fawn with tawny hair and willing hands  
      Ruth            companion with flashing eyes and commitment that stood strong  
like the stones of a temple

Naomi-called-Pleasantness welcomed  
her new daughters with bread and salt  
Orpah and Ruth threw off their cloth of gold  
their rings and their bangles  
and fed their new mother  
soft white bread dipped in mother of pearl salt bowls

 

* * *

 

_Movement II: To Grief_

Mother, I am alone in darkness  
in the wilds of a country I do not love and do not understand  
My husband is dead my sons dying my daughters barren

Nothing helps; I taste ashes  
in my mouth, our fields are burning  
Deliver me, Shaddai  
from this bitter afterbirth of loneliness

I have no place in this land  
though its women are kind  
and the fields gleam with dew  
every morning  
I am a mother without sons  
a wife without a husband  
a Jew without a tribe  
the rivers and ponds reject me  
the land repudiates me, our crops wither  
and my fields remain unharvested, ungleaned

We three women  
are left alone with our grief--  
Oh, Shaddai, I cannot stay in this place!  
I must set my aching bones once more  
on the road the Judea  
and my daughters must return to their mothers  
to the pearl and jewels from which I selfishly  
withhold them

What shall I pack, when I leave under the cover of darkness?  
      What can I hope for, a widow stumbling her way home?  
            Could I leave my troubles in this foreign place  
               or will my bitterness follow me like hunger?

Ruth my darling companion  
and doe-like Orpah:  
my only respite from the emptiness that trails me  
though they too are empty vessels,  
the end of my line

Mother, grant me the strength to send them home,  
let them take husbands from their people  
and live once again in comfort,  
surrounded by their tribe  
and the babies they will bear

 

* * *

 

_Movement III: To Judea_

Three women reach  
the wide road that caravans follow  
on their way down from Moab  
carrying clothes, pots-- a little food  
enough to satisfy them  
if they took care

_Return, my daughters_ said Naomi-called-Pleasantness  
though her warm smile, gentle roundness  
was worn away by grief and  
the pain of emptiness

_Return to the house of your fathers, return to your mothers_  
_take care of them as you have done with me_  
_take new husbands, and find_  
_yourselves barren no more_

Three women walk down the hard dirt path  
their sandals worn thin and cracking  
two of them cleaving to the third even in misery  
washing her bleeding feet  
in kindness

So again:  
_Return, my daughters._  
_do not follow me into the arid mountains_  
_do not brave the gullies where lions lurk_  
_do not follow me as widows_  
_I can no longer give you husbands_  
_I have no more for you_

And Orpah, the fawn, the doe  
ever obedient  
bowed her head  
and took her leave with a kiss for her sister  
and another for her mother __  
_I will leave you my pack_  
      _little enough though it is_  
      _may it grace your mouth and taste of manna_

Just two women then, walking  
the dusty road from Moab to Judea  
their dry hands barely touching  
when they sit at the base of a rare palm  
to warm themselves together  
on the cold desert night

Naomi-called-Pleasantness  
plump cheeks sunken  
bright eyes red and dry of tears  
kissed Ruth’s fingertips  
calloused and cracked from years of hard work and  
days of hard journeying

_A third time I beg you_  
_my daughter_  
_to return home_  
_I have nothing for you_  
_Your inheritance is a dry mouth_  
_and a land of strangers_

Beneath the chill moon  
beneath the leaves of the palm  
a flower bloomed without water  
      cupping Naomi-called-Pleasantness like the bell of a flower  
      cups dew

Ruth  
rebellious in love  
pressed bare fingers to her lips  
                                           forehead  
                                           chest  
                                           feet  
a refusal without words

you are my future, my family, my tribe  
and your journey is mine too  
your G-d is my G-d  
your family my own  
where you lie down, so too will I  
and I will be buried beside you

__

* * *

 

__Movement IV: To Continuation_ _

The land of my youth is  
once again green, oh Lord  
damp and fragrant grasses cushion my steps beneath  
thick-soled feet cracked and bleeding for  
the desolate road

How could I have forgotten the memories  
embedded in the gentle rolling hills of Judea  
in the broad roads  
and the field of tents where farmers  
celebrate a new harvest?

I cannot take it in, oh Shaddai  
oh Ruth, my daughter-companion-love  
it overflows my mouth and I drawn in abundance  
no longer Naomi-called-Pleasantness, I  
can only be Mara  
dried out by bitter salt water  
a Naomi-called-Bitterness

I have no place in this land  
these women who knew me  
plump and round, like a sticky date

They do not know how I had lost  
thank you; my most  
basic prayer

So ask of you, Shaddai, my G-d  
to make of me an impossible woman  
who can give away her only companion  
and in doing so

                                           extend our love  
                                           and our inheritance  
                                           nto eternity


End file.
